Harsh Realities
by kkiiittttyyyyy
Summary: But then there are those moments, those couple of hours spent waiting on the steps of your supposed boyfriend's townhouse while he's who-knows-where, that just kind of slap you in the face. NV after 2.19, underlying NB.


**Title: Harsh Realities**

**Author: Kitty**

**Summary: But then there are those moments, those couple of hours spent waiting on the steps of your supposed boyfriend's townhouse while he's who-knows-where, that just kind of slap you in the face. (How I imagine the NV break-up after 2.19 to be.)**

**Pairings: The (ending) relationship of NV and underlying NB.**

**Warnings: None that I can think of.**

A/N: Enjoy. :)

***

Have you ever had that feeling where you just _know_ something is wrong but you're too deluded to admit it out loud? You could be watching a movie by your favorite director and it's turning out to be a disaster but you keep hoping for that one good scene anyway. Or maybe you're on your way home from that little shopping spree you secretly indulge yourself in once every couple of months only to find out that you left the damn paper bags in the subway. Harsh realities – they're never easy to accept, really, especially for so-called grunge idealists like me. Hell, we _live_ on trying to make the world better by believing, doing and just plain carrying on. But then there are those moments, those couple of hours spent waiting on the steps of your supposed boyfriend's townhouse while he's who-knows-where, that just kind of slap you in the face.

I am tired, honestly. I rarely muster the courage to visit the Archibald home – preferring instead to have Nate visit my café – and the one time I actually gather enough courage to approach the edifice – and possibly the intimidating presence that is Anne Archibald – the Captain's son is nowhere to be found. The muffins I'd gone out of my way to buy are cold and probably doughy by now and I have a feeling I look more like a homeless girl than anything else. Sometimes, I really wonder why I even try.

For the life of me, I can't fully comprehend how I even became to be his girlfriend anyway. I maybe manipulated him a little with the Jenny thing but still – how did I get caught up in the disaster that is the Upper East Side in the first place? Don't get me wrong, I'm fond of Nate Archibald – I might even love him. But looking back, I can't really see when or why I started to get into the thick of things. He is the Golden Boy – handsome, rich, athletic, not-so-smart but really quite thoughtful and endearing. His family has come from generations of successful businessmen, politicians and possibly, nobles, while I can't even trace my past back beyond my Great Aunt Martha. Nate was born into a life of privilege, really still living in it up to now, while all I had and still have is Wisconsin and Brooklyn.

It all sounds so bleak when it's put that way.

"Vanessa!"

I look up and see the object of my affections standing about a meter away from me, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand.

"Nate!" I reply getting up. I am prepared to hug him – to apologize and try to make things better when I notice what he is wearing for the first time. I stare openly, trying to think of reasons why he would still be in his Vanderbilt jacket from the night before – a plausible, acceptable, _positive_ reason. I can think of none.

"I – " he starts.

"Where've you been?"

Before he even answers, I think I already know. He was somewhere in his _old life_ again, of that I am almost sure – a kind of continuation to the disaster that he allowed to befall our relationship last night. Possibilities start running through my mind. Maybe he stayed at the Vanderbilt mansion to bond with his cousins and grandfather some more. But if that was the case, wouldn't they have just lent him clothes? Visited lacrosse buddies then? Or Serena? Maybe he was with Chuck – or not. I know that despite their efforts at reconnecting, something was lost between them the night the latter slept with Nate's girl. I don't think you really just forget something like that, no matter how much things change.

"I was at – "

All of a sudden, something inside of me snaps. I remember something from last night – a glance from Nate that I had tried to brush aside because of the hurt I was feeling from him choosing the internship over the Europe trip with me. While he was speaking in front of the crowd then, saying something about believing in yourself, his eyes were trained somewhere else – on something, or rather, someone else. He looked so hopeful, so dreamy, that I had thought for a second that _maybe _he was looking at me. But then he wasn't, really. What had caught his attention was somewhere further. Though I didn't see or understand it so clearly then, it is crystal clear now. Standing behind me had been his old girlfriend.

"Blair. Blair Waldorf!" I spit out. That scheming, shallow, underhanded bitch!

"What the hell are you talking about, V?" He is trying to act surprised – incredulous – but it is not working. I can see it in his eyes – there is fear. Fear. Fear but no guilt.

"Don't you dare! So what is this? Bringing the old Archibald back, huh? Reconnect with my granddaddy, be part of the multimillion dollar legacy again and hook up with my equally rich but shallow first love?!"

I cannot help it. I am going berserk. How can this be happening? He's Nate Archibald, I'm Vanessa Abrams. We're together – we're _happy_. In the summer, we're going on a backpacking trip – going on a great adventure and experiencing freedom at its finest. Now, all of a sudden, we're fighting. I'm accusing him of things even I know are a little too farfetched and pushing him further and further away. I shove him aside and the coffee in his hand spills on the sidewalk. He doesn't bother to wipe the mess I've made. Tossing the cup aside, he grabs my shoulders and holds tight.

"Don't you dare talk about my family that way Vanessa. They are not perfect, I know that. I may have said negative things about them in the past. But they are still _mine_ and I reserve the right to make comments because I _know _them. You don't."

"Oh so what now? I'm too _poor_ and _ordinary _to make a certified judgment? I'm sorry if I can't understand your greatness," I answer sarcastically. I'm wrong. I know I am. But I feel so desperate and so…angry. I can't stop. "Well guess what! I am _not _sorry for that! I'm glad I wasn't born into your screwed up world and grew up into a class A bitch like _some_ of the girls you've dated!"

It's over. I just _know_ the moment after the words leave my mouth. I crossed the line. I insulted his family, his life, his first love. I wish desperately for some miracle to help me take those few seconds back but there is none. His shoulders slacken and he looks at me with such disappointment that I begin to cry. The tears are hot on my cheeks and I am hoping he will wipe them away, maybe tell me it will all be okay. But he doesn't though. Nate just stands there, looking at me, with that sad look on his face that I can't help but feel even worse.

"I always admired you for your open mind," he says at last. "I thought you would understand, you know? You keep harping about accepting people for who they are but it turns out you can't do it either."

I reach out to him and grab the edge of his jacket sleeve. "But I _do_ accept you Nate."

"You accept _me_ for who _you _want me to be, Vanessa. Or at least who you _thought _I was."

"That's not true," I say, shaking my head. "I _know_ you Nate. You're different from the rest of them. You aren't selfish or shallow. In fact, you're the opposite. You always want what's best for other people, struggle to give them what you think they deserve, even if it means losing a little bit of yourself."

He nods slightly and I smile. Perhaps things will turn out alright after all. But then he speaks and my heart breaks just a little more.

"Yeah, maybe that is who I am – or at least a part of me. But that also isn't all that I'm about. Granted that I am maybe _nicer_ than most of the people around me but I'm not as different from them as you'd like to think. I also _like_ being the way they are. Deep inside, I do enjoy the privilege and the recognition that comes with being who I am. I enjoy being shallow – going on drinking sprees with Chuck and getting high, vacationing in the Hamptons with Serena and even…even going shopping and watching Audrey Hepburn movies all day with Blair. I love touch football and sailing with my grandfather. And – "

"Nate," I start, my voice taking on a tone of desperation that I normally detest. "If that's all, you know I will gladly accept that part of you too."

"Will you really? I think you've shown me today just how accepting you are of my life. You say you accept people, Vanessa. But do you accept them for who they really are or who you would like them to be? The Vanderbilts are controlling, yes. Everyone knows that. But they are also extremely caring people who just want what's best for the members of the family. You're right. I don't know what I want right now. So maybe it might not exactly be the internship at the Mayor's office. But that doesn't necessarily mean that that summer of culture you've got all planned out – although I must say I would enjoy the backpacking part – is it either."

I look at him when he says that last line and his face is so serious. I know he isn't trying to purposely hurt me but that doesn't make it any better. It hurts like hell because at the end of the day, I know what he is saying is the _truth_. I've been so busy carrying on about how his Upper East Side world is trying to turn him into someone he isn't that I failed to notice I am doing the same thing. His family wants him to be a politician. I want him to be a deep-thinking-boyfriend-of-an-artist. Blair wanted him to be the perfect boyfriend for her. I was trying to turn him into the perfect boyfriend for me.

"There is a lot that you don't understand about me Vanessa – a lot that you may never really grasp. I am this way largely because of who I am and how I grew up. I can't deny that anymore. I enjoy the simple things in life – the things you've shown me – too. But there's a part of me that loves my family greatly, a part that loves everyone I've grown up with. In your eyes, they might not be the best of people. In most eyes, they probably really aren't. Then again, they're also the people who have stood by me through most of the things that have gone wrong with me. I know you've done the same. But if you can't accept me for what happened _before _you came…If you can't accept my birthright or my childhood, the past I had with Blair – who, I might add is not just the bitch you think her to be – then we have a problem. Because we both know I have been willing to accept _you_ and where you're from. It's not my fault _you _think the UES is shallow and beneath _you_."

This _ending_ – in a way, I think it is something I had already anticipated. All along, I have known that there is something about Nate Archibald's world that I will never ever be able to reach. There is a part of him that is hidden from my view – whether purposely or not – that I can never get a complete glimpse of, no matter how hard I try. For a while, I had hoped. I had thought that maybe I would get to live out my own fantasy story too. We idealists always believe it's never wrong to dream, after all. Only maybe we should remember that dreams are never supposed to be imposed on other people. In fact, wasn't there a fairytale that once said that dreams, when shared, end up not coming true?

"So this is it, then?" I ask meekly.

"I think so. Yes," he replies quietly, kicking a pebble with his foot.

"There's no way I can get you to stay with me, then?"

I look at him hopefully. There are a lot of things I still want to say but I simply lack the courage. I try to pour all my emotions into my eyes, wishing to God that he would look and see just how much he means to me. Hope. Apology. Forgiveness. Acceptance. Love. I find I am willing to show him anything to make him stay. He is a remarkable boy, and I see that, no matter what other things he says about himself. Perhaps he is not the one I thought he would be. But I find myself wanting to try being with this _real _him, anyway – if only to hope, if only to keep the harsh realities away.

He merely looks at me sadly and moves towards the door of his home.

I turn my back then, ashamed and resigned to the fact that there are some things that you can't change, no matter how hard you try. People will do what they want. In the end, it is usually just as simple as that.

"Nate," I say before I lose the courage. Without moving to face him again, I continue, "Where were you really?"

He doesn't answer for a while and it is already enough for me. The answer is there, floating in between us, in the cold air separating me from the Golden Boy and who he had always been.

"At Blair's."

I expected it. But again, it doesn't make the truth hurt any less.

"Why?" I choke out.

"She asked me to stay."

And there it was, a harsh reality slapping me in the face: He will do – and had already done – want he truly wants.

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**A/N: Review? :)**


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